I was dreaming of the salt smell of the sea just the other day.
The sea was calling out to me once again. I was happy to bury my feet in the sand
and to religiously marvel at the pieces of the sky ceiling.
Clumps of cotton candy clouds, the silkiness melt of azure and tinting pink.
I was holding on to the sweet taste of a life I'm borrowing.
Desperately and gratefully.
The memories I'm etching on these places I've never been,
and people I'll leave
the crescendo of my youth, the last before I shed the one in front.
It is a picturesque one:
the happy faces of friends that keep their secrets skin deep, just a little bit out of my reach
but, I treasure them as they come to me.
Laughing and exchanging a little piece of happiness.
The kind of love that I do not mind dying for.
One that belongs in Louvre.
